Tag Archives: egypt

Setting up bug bounties for success

Post Syndicated from Michal Zalewski original https://lcamtuf.blogspot.com/2018/03/setting-up-bug-bounties-for-success.html

Bug bounties end up in the news with some regularity, usually for the wrong reasons. I’ve been itching to write
about that for a while – but instead of dwelling on the mistakes of the bygone days, I figured it may be better to
talk about some of the ways to get vulnerability rewards right.

What do you get out of bug bounties?

There’s plenty of differing views, but I like to think of such programs
simply as a bid on researchers’ time. In the most basic sense, you get three benefits:

  • Improved ability to detect bugs in production before they become major incidents.
  • A comparatively unbiased feedback loop to help you prioritize and measure other security work.
  • A robust talent pipeline for when you need to hire.

What bug bounties don’t offer?

You don’t get anything resembling a comprehensive security program or a systematic assessment of your platforms.
Researchers end up looking for bugs that offer favorable effort-to-payoff ratios for their skills and given the
very imperfect information they have about your enterprise. In other words, you may end up with a hundred
people looking for XSS and just one person looking for RCE.

Your reward structure can steer them toward the targets and bugs you care about, but it’s difficult to fully
eliminate this inherent skew. There’s only so far you can jack up your top-tier rewards, and only so far you can
go lowering the bottom-tier ones.

Don’t you have to outcompete the black market to get all the “good” bugs?

There is a free market price discovery component to it all: if you’re not getting the engagement you
were hoping for, you should probably consider paying more.

That said, there are going to be researchers who’d rather hurt you than work for you, no matter how much you pay;
you don’t have to win them over, and you don’t have to outspend every authoritarian government or
every crime syndicate. A bug bounty is effective simply if it attracts enough eyeballs to make bugs statistically
harder to find, and reduces the useful lifespan of any zero-days in black market trade. Plus, most
researchers don’t want their work to be used to crack down on dissidents in Egypt or Vietnam.

Another factor is that you’re paying for different things: a black market buyer probably wants a reliable exploit
capable of delivering payloads, and then demands silence for months or years to come; a vendor-run
bug bounty program is usually perfectly happy with a reproducible crash and doesn’t mind a researcher blogging
about their work.

In fact, while money is important, you will probably find out that it’s not enough to retain your top talent;
many folks want bug bounties to be more than a business transaction, and find a lot of value in having a close
relationship with your security team, comparing notes, and growing together. Fostering that partnership can
be more important than adding another $10,000 to your top reward.

How do I prevent it all from going horribly wrong?

Bug bounties are an unfamiliar beast to most lawyers and PR folks, so it’s a natural to be wary and try to plan
for every eventuality with pages and pages of impenetrable rules and fine-print legalese.

This is generally unnecessary: there is a strong self-selection bias, and almost every participant in a
vulnerability reward program will be coming to you in good faith. The more friendly, forthcoming, and
approachable you seem, and the more you treat them like peers, the more likely it is for your relationship to stay
positive. On the flip side, there is no faster way to make enemies than to make a security researcher feel that they
are now talking to a lawyer or to the PR dept.

Most people have strong opinions on disclosure policies; instead of imposing your own views, strive to patch reported bugs
reasonably quickly, and almost every reporter will play along. Demand researchers to cancel conference appearances,
take down blog posts, or sign NDAs, and you will sooner or later end up in the news.

But what if that’s not enough?

As with any business endeavor, mistakes will happen; total risk avoidance is seldom the answer. Learn to sincerely
apologize for mishaps; it’s not a sign of weakness to say “sorry, we messed up”. And you will almost certainly not end
up in the courtroom for doing so.

It’s good to foster a healthy and productive relationship with the community, so that they come to your defense when
something goes wrong. Encouraging people to disclose bugs and talk about their experiences is one way of accomplishing that.

What about extortion?

You should structure your program to naturally discourage bad behavior and make it stand out like a sore thumb.
Require bona fide reports with complete technical details before any reward decision is made by a panel of named peers;
and make it clear that you never demand non-disclosure as a condition of getting a reward.

To avoid researchers accidentally putting themselves in awkward situations, have clear rules around data exfiltration
and lateral movement: assure them that you will always pay based on the worst-case impact of their findings; in exchange,
ask them to stop as soon as they get a shell and never access any data that isn’t their own.

So… are there any downsides?

Yep. Other than souring up your relationship with the community if you implement your program wrong, the other consideration
is that bug bounties tend to generate a lot of noise from well-meaning but less-skilled researchers.

When this happens, do not get frustrated and do not penalize such participants; instead, help them grow. Consider
publishing educational articles, giving advice on how to investigate and structure reports, or
offering free workshops every now and then.

The other downside is cost; although bug bounties tend to offer far more bang for your buck than your average penetration
test, they are more random. The annual expenses tend to be fairly predictable, but there is always
some possibility of having to pay multiple top-tier rewards in rapid succession. This is the kind of uncertainty that
many mid-level budget planners react badly to.

Finally, you need to be able to fix the bugs you receive. It would be nuts to prefer to not know about the
vulnerabilities in the first place – but once you invite the research, the clock starts ticking and you need to
ship fixes reasonably fast.

So… should I try it?

There are folks who enthusiastically advocate for bug bounties in every conceivable situation, and people who dislike them
with fierce passion; both sentiments are usually strongly correlated with the line of business they are in.

In reality, bug bounties are not a cure-all, and there are some ways to make them ineffectual or even dangerous.
But they are not as risky or expensive as most people suspect, and when done right, they can actually be fun for your
team, too. You won’t know for sure until you try.

Book Review: Twitter and Tear Gas, by Zeynep Tufekci

Post Syndicated from Bruce Schneier original https://www.schneier.com/blog/archives/2017/07/book_review_twi.html

There are two opposing models of how the Internet has changed protest movements. The first is that the Internet has made protesters mightier than ever. This comes from the successful revolutions in Tunisia (2010-11), Egypt (2011), and Ukraine (2013). The second is that it has made them more ineffectual. Derided as “slacktivism” or “clicktivism,” the ease of action without commitment can result in movements like Occupy petering out in the US without any obvious effects. Of course, the reality is more nuanced, and Zeynep Tufekci teases that out in her new book Twitter and Tear Gas.

Tufekci is a rare interdisciplinary figure. As a sociologist, programmer, and ethnographer, she studies how technology shapes society and drives social change. She has a dual appointment in both the School of Information Science and the Department of Sociology at University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and is a Faculty Associate at the Berkman Klein Center for Internet and Society at Harvard University. Her regular New York Times column on the social impacts of technology is a must-read.

Modern Internet-fueled protest movements are the subjects of Twitter and Tear Gas. As an observer, writer, and participant, Tufekci examines how modern protest movements have been changed by the Internet­ — and what that means for protests going forward. Her book combines her own ethnographic research and her usual deft analysis, with the research of others and some big data analysis from social media outlets. The result is a book that is both insightful and entertaining, and whose lessons are much broader than the book’s central topic.

“The Power and Fragility of Networked Protest” is the book’s subtitle. The power of the Internet as a tool for protest is obvious: it gives people newfound abilities to quickly organize and scale. But, according to Tufekci, it’s a mistake to judge modern protests using the same criteria we used to judge pre-Internet protests. The 1963 March on Washington might have culminated in hundreds of thousands of people listening to Martin Luther King Jr. deliver his “I Have a Dream” speech, but it was the culmination of a multi-year protest effort and the result of six months of careful planning made possible by that sustained effort. The 2011 protests in Cairo came together in mere days because they could be loosely coordinated on Facebook and Twitter.

That’s the power. Tufekci describes the fragility by analogy. Nepalese Sherpas assist Mt. Everest climbers by carrying supplies, laying out ropes and ladders, and so on. This means that people with limited training and experience can make the ascent, which is no less dangerous — to sometimes disastrous results. Says Tufekci: “The Internet similarly allows networked movements to grow dramatically and rapidly, but without prior building of formal or informal organizational and other collective capacities that could prepare them for the inevitable challenges they will face and give them the ability to respond to what comes next.” That makes them less able to respond to government counters, change their tactics­ — a phenomenon Tufekci calls “tactical freeze” — make movement-wide decisions, and survive over the long haul.

Tufekci isn’t arguing that modern protests are necessarily less effective, but that they’re different. Effective movements need to understand these differences, and leverage these new advantages while minimizing the disadvantages.

To that end, she develops a taxonomy for talking about social movements. Protests are an example of a “signal” that corresponds to one of several underlying “capacities.” There’s narrative capacity: the ability to change the conversation, as Black Lives Matter did with police violence and Occupy did with wealth inequality. There’s disruptive capacity: the ability to stop business as usual. An early Internet example is the 1999 WTO protests in Seattle. And finally, there’s electoral or institutional capacity: the ability to vote, lobby, fund raise, and so on. Because of various “affordances” of modern Internet technologies, particularly social media, the same signal — a protest of a given size — reflects different underlying capacities.

This taxonomy also informs government reactions to protest movements. Smart responses target attention as a resource. The Chinese government responded to 2015 protesters in Hong Kong by not engaging with them at all, denying them camera-phone videos that would go viral and attract the world’s attention. Instead, they pulled their police back and waited for the movement to die from lack of attention.

If this all sounds dry and academic, it’s not. Twitter and Tear Gasis infused with a richness of detail stemming from her personal participation in the 2013 Gezi Park protests in Turkey, as well as personal on-the-ground interviews with protesters throughout the Middle East — particularly Egypt and her native Turkey — Zapatistas in Mexico, WTO protesters in Seattle, Occupy participants worldwide, and others. Tufekci writes with a warmth and respect for the humans that are part of these powerful social movements, gently intertwining her own story with the stories of others, big data, and theory. She is adept at writing for a general audience, and­despite being published by the intimidating Yale University Press — her book is more mass-market than academic. What rigor is there is presented in a way that carries readers along rather than distracting.

The synthesist in me wishes Tufekci would take some additional steps, taking the trends she describes outside of the narrow world of political protest and applying them more broadly to social change. Her taxonomy is an important contribution to the more-general discussion of how the Internet affects society. Furthermore, her insights on the networked public sphere has applications for understanding technology-driven social change in general. These are hard conversations for society to have. We largely prefer to allow technology to blindly steer society or — in some ways worse — leave it to unfettered for-profit corporations. When you’re reading Twitter and Tear Gas, keep current and near-term future technological issues such as ubiquitous surveillance, algorithmic discrimination, and automation and employment in mind. You’ll come away with new insights.

Tufekci twice quotes historian Melvin Kranzberg from 1985: “Technology is neither good nor bad; nor is it neutral.” This foreshadows her central message. For better or worse, the technologies that power the networked public sphere have changed the nature of political protest as well as government reactions to and suppressions of such protest.

I have long characterized our technological future as a battle between the quick and the strong. The quick — dissidents, hackers, criminals, marginalized groups — are the first to make use of a new technology to magnify their power. The strong are slower, but have more raw power to magnify. So while protesters are the first to use Facebook to organize, the governments eventually figure out how to use Facebook to track protesters. It’s still an open question who will gain the upper hand in the long term, but Tufekci’s book helps us understand the dynamics at work.

This essay originally appeared on Vice Motherboard.

The book on Amazon.com.

How Signal Is Evading Censorship

Post Syndicated from Bruce Schneier original https://www.schneier.com/blog/archives/2016/12/how_signal_is_e.html

Signal, the encrypted messaging app I prefer, is being blocked in both Egypt and the UAE. Recently, the Signal team developed a workaround: domain fronting.

Signal’s new anti-censorship feature uses a trick called “domain fronting,” Marlinspike explains. A country like Egypt, with only a few small internet service providers tightly controlled by the government, can block any direct request to a service on its blacklist. But clever services can circumvent that censorship by hiding their traffic inside of encrypted connections to a major internet service, like the content delivery networks (CDNs) that host content closer to users to speed up their online experience — or in Signal’s case, Google’s App Engine platform, designed to host apps on Google’s servers.

“Now when people in Egypt or the United Arab Emirates send a Signal message, it’ll look identical to something like a Google search,” Marlinspike says. “The idea is that using Signal will look like using Google; if you want to block Signal you’ll have to block Google.”

The trick works because Google’s App Engine allows developers to redirect traffic from Google.com to their own domain. Google’s use of TLS encryption means that contents of the traffic, including that redirect request, are hidden, and the internet service provider can see only that someone has connected to Google.com. That essentially turns Google into a proxy for Signal, bouncing its traffic and fooling the censors.

This isn’t a new trick (Tor uses it too, for example), but it does work.